Damaging Origins

By Anonymous / Winter 2023

There is a small part of me that has learned not to blame my father for the way he is. My mom has told at least a handful of horrific stories of her encounters with my paternal grandmother and two aunts while she and my father were first dating and then married. My father grew up the middle child with an older and younger sister, and so was the only son to my grandfather, James, and my grandma, Gloria. My dad was born in 1960 in Indiana, so he was born into an era and area where the husband and father was the breadwinner, being comfortably middle class was often attainable with only one parent working, and more often than not, the female was the housewife. My grandma was happily the housewife, and did the cooking, cleaning, and child rearing. Social norms were extremely important to my grandmother- especially the toxic ones. Her version of the American Dream for herself and her kids included memberships to exclusive country clubs, a family speed boat, some level of notoriety in the community, college paid for the kids, for her daughters to be prom and homecoming queens, and my dad to be a star athlete. Unfortunately for her, this American Dream was not her reality.

My grandmother, even in her youth, was probably not what a majority of people would’ve considered to be typically attractive for any era housewife. She was not built to be the stereotypically picturesque version with a permanently styled and maintained coif, tastefully made up and dainty with a small waist. My grandmother, instead, has the appearance of a Polish peasant circa 1750, and at 6’0” tall, the build of a linebacker. Perhaps that’s why she pushed my aunts to be pretty and popular- the beauty queens, the cheerleaders. My youngest aunt was still in high school when my parents were dating and one of the stories I was regaled with was that my mom witnessed my grandmother literally pull my aunt down the stairs by her hair in order to force her to go to the prom, because if she wasn’t at prom, she couldn’t accept her possible crowning as prom queen. This same aunt was also regularly forced to go on dates so that she could find a husband as quickly as possible after graduating highschool.

Also technically unfortunate for my grandmother’s dream was that my dad, while he did eventually grow to be tall with a slim, yet athletic build, did not reach that state until his late teens—well after he had graduated high school. Instead, my dad was small, slim, and inclined towards his studies. Though he wouldn’t grow up to be the football star she had dreamed of, he would manage his undergraduate degree in chemistry and would continue through dental school- eventually managing his own practice and affording him the kind of financial success my grandmother expected a man to achieve.

Though my grandfather toiled endlessly to provide the best he possibly could for his family, it was genuinely never enough for my grandmother. She regularly told my dad and aunts about how lazy my grandfather was and how little he loved the family because he was unable to provide her every heart’s desire, even though by all general measures, the family was middle class, happy, healthy, and had all of their needs met. She was materialistic and superficial, through and through- even to the point that she tried to leave my eldest aunt at the hospital as a newborn because she was “too ugly to take home.” Alas, my father grew up in an environment where looks and money were everything, women were supposed to be attractive, popular (highly social at least), and married early- their adult life’s purpose to do household tasks, take care of any children, and then spend their husband’s hard-earned money on material things to showcase their economic status.

Knowing these circumstances and having the experience and perspective I do now has helped my opinion of my father in the present, but I did not have those luxuries when I was young and when his learned mindset was employed to guide and shape my own character and future. For these reasons, when I did experience the superficial, materialistic, and sexist ideologies held by my father, often to my own detriment, I did not have the tools to understand they were not about me. Because of this, I internalized everything.

In some ways, my dad’s mindset was regressively beneficial to almost any young and teen-aged girl, as I was almost always given the financial resources I desired to go shopping, get my nails done, buy makeup, and even get my hair highlighted. I was also always provided with financial resources to go have fun with my friends- to theme parks, to the beach, to the movies- whatever. The aspects of my personality, appearance, and self that were meant to be attractive, well-groomed, and “fun” were always supported. Of course, by the time I hit high school, while I did enjoy getting highlights and was obsessed with makeup, I was simultaneously a huge tomboy that listened to punk, hardcore, and metal. On the academic side of things, high school was a challenge for me because not only was I bored out of my mind with the curriculum, I also eventually had severe health challenges that made attending a challenge- but I had always had an interest in and aptitude for science, especially biology, chemistry, and astronomy. I was also interested in skateboarding and BMX, hockey and baseball, classic muscle and Italian sports cars, learning to play the guitar, and playing sports (except basketball, which is so not my game). Every time I expressed interest in a lesson, or sport, or hobby, if it was even remotely un-feminine, my brother, Justin, would be invited to have it or experience it instead. Justin got the BMX bike, he got a custom bowling ball, he was offered the guitar lessons, and even when we were still kids, he was the one given the chemistry set for Christmas. He had never expressed interest in any of it, but in my dad’s warped, sexist brain,  those things only made sense for his son to pursue and enjoy.

There were always stark differences in my father’s behavior towards us otherwise. I was expected to do housework and clean up after everyone in the family from a young age. Meanwhile, Justin didn’t even learn how to do his own laundry until he was in his early twenties. I think the contrasting outlook my dad had of my brother and I though, in terms of our worth and places in society, reached peak illumination for me when I walked into our kitchen and overhead my dad speaking to Justin about going to college - to Wabash specifically, my dad’s alma mater. My dad was explaining to Justin that his grades were important and that he had a college fund all ready to go. My dad had never talked to me about college. In fact, from elementary school through high school, my father never talked to me about my grades—he never even inquired as to whether I had homework, much less if I’d ever done it. Still, I chimed in to their conversation and asked if I had a college fund too. I will never forget it: my dad looked flatly at me and said, “you don’t need a college fund. You can just marry rich.”